


Late Night Snack

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Baking, Cooking, M/M, Sexual Content, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 16:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4673219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a late night snack</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Snack

Richard yawned awake to the sound of rain drumming heavily against the window, its rhythmic tappings soothing in the darkness; he snuffled out another yawn, eyes drooping closed again as he relaxed against the pillows beneath him. Despite his ongoing tiredness and the fact that he’d retired late to bed that night, with Paul in his arms, he found that sleep evaded him, skipping out of reach of his arms that night.

He sighed, grunted out a brief curse that sounded deep and lonely in the rain washed silences of the bedroom, before he turned over roughly in bed, fist suddenly punching and pounding the pillow into more comfortable shapes beneath him. It was as he moved that he realized that Paul no longer was laying beside him; his side of the bed was conspicuously empty. Richard frowned and stopped his movements for a moment, before he reached out to splay one hand against the sheets. They still held a vague warmth; Richard guessed that Paul must have left within the last five minutes or so, if the sheets had yet to cool considerably. He still felt surprised, however, that he’d been completely unaware of Paul even leaving the bed; usually he was more attuned to his lover’s movements than that. 

The last thing that he could remember, was Paul curled up against him, head settled between Richard’s shoulder-blades, hair tickling with every movement against the back of Richard's neck. Paul’s arm had been its usual heavy weight draped against his waist, hand splayed flat against Richard’s chest, where his heart beat steadily beneath his ribs; it always made Richard feel as though Paul was trying to keep Richard’s heart safe beneath the palm of his hand, and in most ways, in all the ways that such things mattered, Paul was the one to keep his heart guarded all to himself. 

Richard shifted and decided to wait for Paul’s return, to surprise him with a smile and perhaps a cuddle and a kiss or two, but Paul didn’t return as swiftly as Richard had anticipated. He waited for a few moments longer, wondering if perhaps Paul was in the bathroom, but the bathroom was close enough that Richard could always hear when the other man was using it; its tiled walls remained eerily still and silent. He sighed, and decided that he would have to find out where the other man was for himself, if either one of them was to get any rest that night. 

Richard swung his legs from beneath the sheets, hissing slightly as the cool air sent shivers through his body where it slapped against each exposed scrap of skin on his body. He shivered when his feet connected with the cold floor; Richard hurried them into the soft confining warmth of his slippers, relief washing through him as the familiar warm nap enclosed his frozen toes. 

He got to his feet and shuffled across the room, another loud yawn breaking unbidden from his mouth, as he moved, almost drowning out the sound of the rain, which had grown imperceptibly heavier in the time that he’d been awake. He clicked open the door and caught the first scent of food wafting from the kitchen; it seemed as though Paul was possibly making something to eat. Richard frowned, eyes still bleary with the last remnants of sleep as he turned to squint at the clock left behind on the bedside cabinet; it sent a softly glowing red light out into the room, yet it took Richard a few moments to focus properly and to make sense of the numbers as being anything but a meaningless mush in the darkness. 

“2am,” Richard muttered, as he wondered silently to himself quite why Paul was cooking at such an early hour of the morning.

He sighed and knew that there was only one way that he was going to find out what exactly was going on; he would have to make his way into the kitchen and ask. He followed his nose and the sounds of movement coming from the other room, clicking the door open to reveal Paul in his dressing gown, striped pyjama bottoms sticking out from beneath the well-loved fabric. Paul’s hair was still in mussed and sleepy disarray yet his movements were anything but sleepy; instead, they seemed urgent, slightly choppy as though Paul was a little agitated. Richard blinked into the harsh light of the kitchen, wondering if perhaps Paul was sleep-walking, and managing, quite adequately as it turned out, to be cooking what looked like French toast. 

Then he realized that Paul was fully awake, when Paul turned and dropped the egg he held in his hand upon the floor, where the fragile shell cracked, spilling its contents in a sticky yellow and translucent mess upon the tiles.

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were there,” Paul suddenly said, and his voice sounded distinctly, and suddenly, guilty.

“Meanwhile, I didn’t know I was Jesus,” Richard countered with a sudden smile. “What are you doing? Other than making a mess of eggs upon the floor?”

“Sorry. I couldn't sleep,” Paul said, looking apologetic as he fluffed one hand through his hair.

“So I see,” Richard said, as he shuffled further into the room.

He closed the door softly behind himself; the chill was starting to attack his back in uncomfortable licks and the kitchen, by default, was warmer than the corridor. He could still hear the drumming of the rain against the windows, however, proving that the storm was determined to hang around for quite a while yet. Paul sighed into the silence, but didn’t say anything; instead, he reached for the kitchen towels to mop the sticky mess of eggs from the floor. Richard was suddenly glad that the floor was actually tiled, despite the fact that he didn’t say so aloud; he’d lost count of the times that Paul had made a mess of it whilst cooking, clumsy hands dropping all manner of food-stuffs upon the white and black surface, and he’d only moved in a few months beforehand. Richard tried not to think of the times that he’d added to the mess inadvertently himself whilst cooking, although he could count on one hand the amount of times that he’d done so in comparison with Paul. 

He ripped some towels from the roll for himself and knelt beside Paul, to help him to clear up the mess; Paul directed him a grateful smile, which was soft and surprised, as though the other man had not expected the help. There had been something almost sad about how he’d been hunched over the mess, as though Paul was embarrassed, movements awkward as though he still was learning his way about the kitchen, which in effect, Richard supposed, he sort of was. Richard didn’t pass comment or judgement upon Paul, however; he was determined to make their time together work, and it wouldn’t do to muddy the waters by perhaps embarrassing the other man further or berating him for making a mess. 

“Do you always cook when you can’t sleep?” Richard asked next when it seemed as though Paul himself was not going to talk. 

He found that he needed to say something, after all, and to ask a question, non-judgemental and genuinely curious as it was, seemed the best option right then. Paul glanced up at him, gaze sharp and penetrating and Richard had the sudden sense that the other man thought he was being judged or that, unthinkably, Richard was taking the piss out of him. Richard smiled at him and silently waited, hand removing the last of the mess from the tiles, before he threw the rubbish into the nearby bin. When he turned back to face Paul again, the other man looked a little more relaxed, relieved even, as though glad to note that Richard, in fact, wasn’t poking fun. 

“I do,” Paul replied, finally. “And whenever I feel particularly stressed. It’s a bad habit, I know, but it’s calming to me.”

“You bake when you’re stressed?” Richard asked, with sudden alarm coursing through his body. “Why are you stressed? Have I done something?”

Paul looked genuinely alarmed at that and before he’d even had chance to say anything, Richard realized that he hadn’t done anything after all; he relaxed, glad to find that he hadn’t anything to apologize for.

“No,” Paul said, as he straightened, to close the distance between them.

Although he didn’t touch Richard outright, due to his still sticky, eggy hands, Richard could tell that he wanted to and he smiled, warmed a little by the fact that Paul sought to comfort him, even now, with dirty hands. 

“Why would you think that?” Paul continued, still in that same alarmed tone of voice.

“I don’t know. All I heard was that you were stressed and I thought you were unhappy,” Richard admitted, feeling inexplicably guilty for even revealing that much.

Paul sighed and looked sad, then, mouth pulled down at the corners a little. Richard sighed in turn and reached out with one clean hand to rub warm fingers against Paul’s arm. The other man leant into his touch, eyes closing slightly, mouth curling into an involuntary smile, and he did not move away. 

“I’m not unhappy,” Paul told him. “It’s just ... still new. This.”

He gestured around at Richard’s flat with one hand and Richard knew, without being told, that Paul still had to adjust to the situation, new as it was for the both of them. The decision to move in together, to make their relationship more permanent, had not been an easy one for either man to make. Richard, himself, had to get used to the idea of sharing his flat with another person, when previously he’d been all too used to spending his time alone; he should have guessed that it must have been far stranger for Paul having to leave the familiar home comforts of his own flat behind.

“I know. I realize, Paulchen. It’s weird for me, too,” Richard finally said when he realized that the silence had stretched out for far too long and was in danger of becoming uncomfortable. “But if I wasn’t serious about you being here, I wouldn’t have asked. I wanted you here and I still want you here, no matter what you do.”

“So I’m free to make as many smells and noises as I want and it won’t scare you off?” Paul asked, with the grin that Richard was so fond of seeing firmly in place on his face.

“Jesus, Paul, we’ve shared enough tour busses and hotel rooms in the past; I think I’m used to you by now,” Richard snorted, affectionately. 

Paul merely laughed at that, nose crinkling in that cute way that he had; he nodded, before he made his way to the sink to run his hands beneath the tap.

“I’ll get used to it. So will you,” Paul said. “In time.”

“Hmm,” Richard agreed, whilst he waited his turn to also wash his hands beneath the tap.

Paul looked thoughtful as he wiped his hands dry upon the nearest tea-towel, before a sudden look of alarm crossed his face.

“I didn’t wake you earlier, did I?” Paul asked. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“Nah, you’re okay,” Richard said, as he joined Paul at the tea towel. “I just woke up on my own, y‘know?”

He shrugged, as though it was no big deal and it wasn’t, not to him. Paul looked relieved at that, but didn’t say anything further. Instead, Richard gestured towards the remnants of the meal that Paul had been attempting to make, with a smile.

“Want me to help?” he asked.

“Would you?” Paul asked, hopefully.

“Sure,” Richard replied, with a nod and a smile.

Paul nodded out his easy acceptance at that, before they both set to work at cooking. It still seemed too early to cook to Richard, yet he knew that the exercise would further strengthen the already strong bonds between them, and their movements around the kitchen were effortless almost to the point of telepathy; Paul visibly relaxed in Richard’s company, smile a near-constant fixture upon his face by the time the food was served and they had settled at the kitchen table to eat it. Richard couldn’t help but return Paul’s grins, glad to see that Paul looked comfortable now, even a little sleepy, judging by the tired wrinkles that had appeared around the other man's eyes. Richard yawned himself but continued to eat, feeling the relaxing effects of the food upon his body. They talked while they ate, conversation as easy as it ever was between them, until the food had been entirely consumed; they cleared their mess away, washing up and placing the clean plates and cutlery away, before they wound their way through the flat, back to their shared bedroom.

It still was raining heavily outside and the sound of the droplets hitting against the windowpanes were soothing, yet Richard found it hard to go back to sleep again, despite his tiredness. Paul was a warm curled weight against his body and Richard could tell by the rhythm of the other man’s breathing that Paul was also still awake. Richard sighed but he didn't speak; instead, he curled his hand around Paul’s chin, felt the other man’s stubble tickling against his fingers as he tilted Paul's face up to his. Paul’s body relaxed still further against Richard‘s, mouth a soft and malleable line against his and Richard licked his way inside Paul’s mouth eagerly; Richard could feel the hard line of the other man’s erection rubbing against his own when Paul suddenly shifted against him.

They still didn’t talk; they didn’t need to. Instead, Paul angled himself onto his back without prompting, smile curving his lips lazily as he stared expectantly at Richard. Richard returned that smile eagerly and slipped from beneath the sheets to retrieve the lube from the bathroom cabinet; Paul had settled onto his stomach by the time that he'd returned, yet still he was dressed. Richard chuckled at that; Paul obviously knew that Richard enjoyed undressing the other man as much as he loved making love to him. Paul might have been impatient for sex but he wasn’t that impatient apparently. 

He made short work of undressing the other man, hands stroking over Paul's slight frame reverently, re-learning every curve and dip of the other man’s body, enjoying the easy way in which Paul shuddered and sighed and responded beneath him. The noises grew louder as soon as Richard began preparing him, slick fingers dipping and curling into Paul as he stretched him carefully in preparation for all that was about to come.

Paul shifted as soon as Richard drew away, angled his hips to make it easier for Richard to guide himself into him; Richard groaned out Paul’s name as soon as he was settled inside before he began to thrust, slowly at first and then harder, faster, hands holding tightly against Paul’s hips to steady the other man. He could hear Paul’s moans deep and aroused in the darkness, the other man’s body folding up easily against his, and Paul’s hand moving to start stroking at himself in time with Richard’s thrusts. 

Richard closed his eyes, felt his release coiling behind his abdomen, which coiled still further and then struck and Paul’s name was choked out in wings of love into the rain drenched air upon release. He was dimly aware of Paul coming apart beneath him, of needy groans, of Paul shouting that he loved him over and over into the darkness and Richard held him through it, couldn't let him go when he felt so stripped bare and vulnerable himself. He eased away once they were settled again, and smiled when Paul curled up against him, a sated dead weight in his arms. 

“Love you, Reesh,” Paul whispered against his lips before he kissed him.

“Love you too, Paulchen,” Richard smiled back, before he fell silent.

Paul smiled against his chest but didn't speak again; instead, his breathing grew slower and heavier before a sudden snore announced the fact that he’d gone to sleep. Richard chuckled quietly to himself at that, before he dotted an affectionate goodnight kiss against the top of Paul’s head. He drew closer, hands spread against the expanse of Paul’s back as he relaxed, senses dulled still further by the sound of the rain serenading him into sated, happy sleep.


End file.
